


That Time Again

by ChloeWeird



Series: Timing is Everything [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic, Fertility Issues, Happy Ending, Homophobia, M/M, Miscarriage, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Surrogacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6262306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWeird/pseuds/ChloeWeird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek decide that they want to add to their family. But life doesn’t always work out the way they want it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

Stiles stirred sugar into his coffee, barely able to hold the spoon upright. He was exhausted, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep for hours. He was way too wired. Also, his phone was going off non-stop with the arrival of new pictures of Erica and Boyd’s first child, born just four hours earlier. 

Stiles sighed happily. Another addition to the pack. Erica and Boyd’s daughter was perfect in every way, healthy, and with a set of lungs that already did her parents proud. There hadn’t been a baby around since Natalie, and all of the wolves were itching to cover her brand new, slightly jaundiced skin with the scent of the pack. Stiles hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, but from the way he’d seen Scott brush a reverent hand over Kira’s flat belly after the baby had entered the world, he was expecting an announcement any day now. 

Stiles and Derek had been at the hospital for ages before the birth. Stiles checked the clock on the microwave, and was surprised see that it was almost 9AM. He’d been awake so long that it felt like the early hours of the morning, still and grey and quiet in the kitchen that still smelled a tiny bit like fresh paint to werewolf noses. 

The numbers on the microwave blurred as Stiles’ jaw cracked in a huge yawn, so he figured he should probably go upstairs and lie down. Maybe he’d get lucky and his body would decide to give him a break, instead of keeping him awake with leftover adrenaline coursing through his system. 

He dragged himself up the stairs, sloshing his overfull mug on the hardwood. He couldn’t drink it right away, though. He had to wait and see whether closing his eyes would bring blissful sleep or frightening flashbacks of Erica’s literally bone-crushing grip on Boyd’s hand. He rounded the corner at the top, and saw Derek standing in the doorway of the guest room closest to Stiles and Derek’s bedroom. 

The renovations on the house had been completed weeks ago, but this room had never been finished. The walls had a coat of primer, and nothing else. There was an Ikea day bed in the corner, but no other furniture filled the large floor area. The blank walls and the expanse of bare hardwood floor begged to be decorated. Neither of them had ever said it out loud, but there was a reason why they hadn’t fixed up this room like they had Teddy’s room and the other guest room. 

Stiles hooked his chin over Derek’s shoulder and let his eyes roam over the white space. It was so easy to picture them painted in a pastel colour and decorated with trains or butterflies or whatever the child who slept there liked. 

“Do you think we’re ready?” Stiles murmured into Derek’s ear. 

“Does any parent ever really feel ready?” Derek replied, and Stiles breathed a laugh into Derek’s shoulder blade. 

Stiles didn’t think he ever would. He was nervous, in a way Derek probably wouldn’t understand. He was afraid that he’d used up all his natural parenting instincts on his first child. Teddy had been love at first sight, and that love had gotten them through all the downs that came with the ups. But what if Stiles couldn’t bond with another kid the way he had with Ted? What if he couldn’t handle any more? Or, even worse, what if he unconsciously favoured Ted, and screwed up the second kid for life? Derek had enough space in his heart for a hundred kids. Stiles couldn’t bear the thought of Derek becoming resentful of Stiles because he couldn’t find that depth in himself. 

“What are you thinking about?” Derek asked, turning his head so that their noses brushed. Stiles’ worries must have messed with his body chemistry. Stiles shook his head, rubbing his chin against Derek’s shirt. He didn’t want to tell Derek that he was imagining a scenario where he was so selfish that he could love one of his children more than the other. 

Because he was also imagining Derek’s face lighting up like Boyd’s had when he first held his new daughter. He imagined Teddy kissing his little sibling on the head, and holding them in his lap. His father setting a new place at the tea party table. Himself, learning how to braid long hair in fabulous, complicated styles. 

Yeah, Stiles thought. He was nervous, and maybe he wouldn’t feel ready until Teddy was in college, but he wanted another kid. The timing was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an angst fest, but I promise it will all work out happily in the end! They just have to go through some stuff to get there. Not much of Teddy and Eddie the Wonder Team in this particular part of the story...but don’t worry, they’ll come back in the Timestamps. On that note, this will probably be the last long section of this verse...but some shorter slices of life will be written soon. And who knows, perhaps I’ll be inspired again!
> 
> Next Chapter March 17th: Stiles and Derek take the first step on their journey to second-time parenthood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’m aware that surrogacy probably takes longer than is implied in this story...just go with it. It’s MAGIC!!!

Sleep didn’t come to them until late afternoon. They were both a bit loopy from lack of rest, but once the idea was planted in their heads, there was no way either of them could go to bed until they started making plans. Teddy didn’t need to be picked up from the babysitter until the next morning, so they talked the whole day about what they wanted, and how they wanted to get there. They slept restlessly, and woke up early the next day to set their plans in motion. 

“Hi guys!” Sonya called from the porch. Her two year old son Thomas was in her arms, waving a piece of apple in his hands. 

“Hey, Sonya,” Derek said, and kissed her cheek, then he let himself inside to find Teddy. 

“Derek texted me last night,” Sonya told Stiles as they entered the kitchen. Teddy and April had already eaten, but Thomas’ breakfast was still on the table, so they both sat down. “A girl, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, a little dreamily. Boyd and Erica were still sorting out a name, but Stiles was sure it would be as beautiful as she was. Stiles realized he’d been staring into space, and cleared his throat. “Thanks so much for taking Teddy, by the way. I know two nights is a long time.”

“Not a problem. We had a blast. April thinks Teddy hung the moon.”

Stiles grinned, and listened to the squeals of the kids drifting up from the playroom. Teddy loved it here, and was always asking when he could come and play with April, so Stiles was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. 

“So,” Sonya said, with a particular tone in her voice that sounded like a subject change. “Do you think you might want a sibling for Teddy?” 

Stiles blinked. He’d been anxious from the moment he’d woken up, trying to come up with a way to subtly start a conversation that ended in, “Would you have my baby?” This opening seemed too good to be true. 

Stiles cleared his throat again, and shifted in his chair. “Well, we talked about it recently, actually. We think now’s a great time for a second kid.” 

Sonya clapped her hands together rapidly a bunch of times and squealed, then Thomas screeched with excitement. They both winced, but Sonya never lost her huge smile. 

“Oh, I’m so glad! You two are so great with Teddy, and I think he’ll love being an older brother. So, will you adopt?”

“Derek wants to try surrogacy.” Stiles hadn’t been surprised to hear this. Derek wanted to be there every step of the way, helping to make decisions, and making sure the woman who carried their baby was comfortable and healthy.

They’d already decided to use Stiles’ sperm, because Derek could pass on his born werewolf genes and they couldn’t guarantee that the baby wouldn’t be detected as non-human in utero. Most werewolves were home births, with as few interactions with doctors as possible, and always with emissaries present, in case a memory altering spell became necessary. Those kinds of restrictions would be unfair to impose on a human woman who was nice enough to carry their baby for them.

“Actually,” Stiles said, taking the leap. “I wanted to talk to you about that. Derek and I were talking, and--”

“You want me to be your surrogate?” 

Stiles deflated, abandoning the words he’d laboured over on the car ride there. He should’ve known Sonya would catch on quickly. 

“Yeah. Derek and I would love that. I know it’s a big decision.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to tell me now, just give it some thought, and you can let me know what you decide.”

“Okay, Stiles.”

“And please don’t think we’ll be disappointed if you say no, we’d never--”

“Stiles, I’m saying yes!” Sonya said, loudly, breaking into Stiles’ train of thought. “Alright? I don’t need time to think. I’d love to be your surrogate.”

Stiles’ mouth fell open, and he felt like his brain had shut off for a few seconds. “Really? You don’t need time to think?”

Sonya reached out and took Stiles’ hand. “Believe it or not, Stiles, I’ve actually given it some thought before now. I knew Derek wanted more kids. I wasn’t sure if you’d been planning on going the surrogacy route, but I was prepared for you to ask, if that’s what you wanted.” 

Stiles dove out of his seat and pulled Sonya in for a tight hug, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. Sonya laughed and patted his back, and graciously ignored Stiles’ rapid blinking when they parted. 

“Okay,” Stiles said, a bit dazed. “I guess I’ll email you about...everything.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Derek came out of the playroom a few minutes later, dripping with children. Stiles knew he’d heard everything from downstairs, but he couldn’t wait to say the words out loud, so that they would seem more real. Sonya said yes. _She said yes._

**

Lydia wouldn’t hear of letting them make such an important agreement without a properly notarized contract. It probably wasn’t nearly as extensive as it might have been if Sonya was a complete stranger, but Lydia was thorough, and everyone was grateful. The whole process of insemination was way more complicated than Stiles would have thought, but they hurried through it as much as they could. 

They’d been warned that sometimes it didn’t work, that it could take multiple tries, but some fertility deity must have decided to get involved, because Sonya tested positive on the very first go round. Stiles and Derek couldn’t stop hugging her the whole first week after she gave them the news, and she took it with grace and a beaming smile. 

Stiles and Derek were so incandescently happy, that it was no wonder that neither of them listened to the dire warnings in the terms and conditions, and that they let the Sheriff’s gentle precautions roll off their backs. They painted the nursery pale yellow, and starting making even more plans. 

Ben--Sonya’s eternally patient and accepting husband--called Stiles’ cell phone after midnight when Sonya was just one and a half months along. 

“You need to come to Beacon Hills General,” he said, softly and gravely. 

Derek and Stiles rushed to Sonya’s side, but there was nothing they could have done. She’d miscarried. Derek held her in his arms when they arrived, rubbing her back while she cried and telling her it wasn’t her fault, that they were just glad she was alright.

“Maybe I’m too old for this kind of thing,” she said, after she’d calmed down. 

“34 is not old.”

“Tell that to the doctors. I feel judged, Derek, and this is after years of your judgy eyebrows.”

They left her in Ben’s tender care, then picked Teddy up from his impromptu sleepover, and drove home in a daze. When Teddy was comfortable in front of the TV, they went upstairs and sat on their bed. Stiles put his forehead on Derek’s shoulder and let the sorrow come. 

They’d been so excited that they hadn’t cared about the possibility of tragedy. They’d skipped right past hope to certainty, and the fall was even harder because of it. Stiles didn’t regret trying, but if he could do it over again, he’d be a little more cautious. Spend a little more time on the ground, instead of on cloud nine. 

That was the question, though. Would they do it all over again?

They mourned the baby--who’d been the size of a blueberry, Stiles found out--for weeks before Stiles brought it up. Derek’s hurt had been a quiet one, but Stiles was glad he hadn’t isolated himself in his sadness. He’d reached out for Stiles and Teddy even more, holding them tighter than he had before it all went wrong. 

“Derek,” Stiles whispered into the dark. They were both still getting used to not having Teddy between them when they went to sleep, so there was a good three feet of space between them. “What do you want to do now?” 

Derek was quiet for so long, Stiles thought he might have fallen asleep. Then, he turned his head toward Stiles and said, softly, “Sonya would try again. She told me last week, when I went to see her, that she would give it another shot. Ben wouldn’t be too thrilled about it, but she said she’d made a promise, and that she thought it could still happen.” 

“And what do you think?” Stiles wasn’t surprised to hear that Sonya was still up for it. She was so resilient, and had a heart as big as Derek’s. 

“I don’t think I can. Until I saw her in the hospital, I never thought about the risks. Women can still die from giving birth, Stiles, or at the very least, have health complications that can last a long time. The likelihood wouldn’t be high, but it would still be there. I don’t think I can put her through that, especially not when Ben doesn’t approve. Our needs shouldn’t ever put strain on their marriage.” 

“Okay,” Stiles said, reaching a hand over the expanse of the mattress and threading their fingers together. “That’s totally fine. We’ll find a different way. Is surrogacy the way you want to go?” 

Derek dragged his other hand down his face, and he sighed. “A part of me wants to. The part that wanted to feel like I could be in control. But the bigger part of me thinks that finding another surrogate would feel like we were replacing Sonya, and we could never do that.” 

Stiles rolled over and tucked himself into Derek’s side, kicking the blankets out of the way so that they could be skin to skin. He kissed Derek’s jaw, then rested his head on Derek’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. “Alright then. Adoption it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Tomorrow (March 18): Stiles and Derek try a new route. Will they get to their destination or get lost on the way?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important to note: I don’t know anything about adoption. I did some brief googling, but I didn’t delve very deep. For the purpose of future stories, I wanted this particular timeline, also I wanted Derek and Stiles not to be technically married, so I’ve handwaved these away, with apologies for the gross inaccuracies! Hopefully it doesn’t distract too much.

Before they were swept away on the ecstatic tide of Sonya’s positive pregnancy test, Stiles and Derek had begun the process of being approved for adoption. At that time, they’d had their feet on the ground, and knew that conception wasn’t guaranteed. 

They’d filled out all the forms, endured the home inspections, completed the background checks. (Both of their records had been wiped clean years ago.) The surrogacy plan had taken precedence, especially when Sonya had conceived, but they’d completed the application for the agency, and were on all the lists by the time they’d made the decision to go that route for sure. 

They had a few things working against them, they knew. Not every woman would allow their baby to be adopted by a pair of men. Another obstacle was that they’d decided they couldn’t accept a child older than about 18 months. Obviously, they would love to, and it had worked out great with 3 year old Teddy. But to adopt a human child who had any memories of their human family, then introduce them to their new werewolf family? It could go very wrong. If a toddler, or young child reacted badly, or didn’t feel that they were safe, they could be traumatized for life, and Stiles and Derek didn’t want to take that risk. 

The bottom line was they were prepared to wait a long time. 

On a cool February night, Stiles’ cell phone started ringing while he was in the kitchen with Derek and Teddy making an army’s worth of banana bread. He wiped the flour from his hands and answered it, plugging his other ear so he could hear over Teddy listing the ingredients they still needed. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, Mr. Stilinski? It’s Marsha calling from the adoption agency.” 

“Oh. Hi, Marsha.” Stiles put the phone to his chest and made a shushing gesture to Derek. “What can I do for you?” 

“I think I’m about to make your night,” she said. 

A woman had given birth in a hospital in Redding. The baby hadn’t been planned, the first to a single mother. When the baby had been born, the doctor noted the markers for Down syndrome, missed during the ultrasounds. She’d taken time to consider, but ultimately decided that she didn’t have the resources to raise a special needs child. The baby, a little boy, was waiting in the hospital at that moment. The agency had called a number of couples, but they had all declined, for the same reason as the birth mother. 

Stiles hung up the phone, dazed, with the promise to call Marsha back within the hour. 

“Derek,” he said, clutching the phone tightly and smiling down at it goofily. “Our baby is here.” 

**

They called Marsha back within 10 minutes, had Teddy at Scott and Kira’s in another 15, and were walking into the hospital in Redding after 50. Marsha met them there, and just like that, they were in the maternity ward, standing on one side of a glass wall and staring at a baby boy on the other side. 

He was beautiful. He was healthy, with no respiratory or heart problems yet. He was sleeping when they got there, but neither of them could take their eyes off him, watching with fascination every time he stretched or moved his hands. They waited for hours for Marsha to deal with the red tape, each minute falling harder and harder as they anticipated claiming a baby they hadn’t even held in their arms yet.

When Marsha’s shoes came clicking down the hall again, they stood up quickly from the bench they’d camped out on and met her wide smile. 

“Kimberly would like to meet you,” she said. Stiles was sure his surprise showed on his face, but he nodded and they both followed her. Kimberly had indicated that she wanted a closed adoption, and hadn’t wanted to speak with them at all until now, even when Stiles and Derek had suggested meeting. Stiles had assumed she wanted to hold herself back, and he respected that, but a part of him was happy she’d changed her mind. He wanted her to know that they were good people, and they’d look after her son to the best of their ability. 

The room was mostly empty, other than one nurse and a tired looking older woman who was sitting in a plastic chair by the window. Kimberly was still in her hospital bed. She was young, with a tight, brittle expression and dark shadows under her eyes. 

“Hi Kimberly!” Marsha said, her loud and perky voice at odds with the quietly tense room. 

“Hey,” she replied, sullenly. 

Marsha didn’t seem phased by her lack of enthusiasm. “As per your request, I’ve brought the potential adoptive parents. The forms are being prepared now. You’ll probably see me again in a few hours, but for now, this is Derek Hale and…Mi--Uh. Me...”

“Stiles, please,” Stiles said, rescuing her from her indecision. “Nobody ever calls me by my birth name.” 

Marsha gave a tinkling laugh and turned back to Kimberly, who hadn’t cracked a smile. Stiles didn’t blame her. She was going through some shit. 

“Hi,” Kimberly said, waving awkwardly. Her gaze skirted over Stiles without stopping, then she frowned at Derek. “So, where’s your wife?” 

The few seconds that followed were the definition of an awkward silence. Stiles saw Marsha’s immaculately penciled eyebrows shoot up. 

“I don’t have one,” Derek said, slowly, cautiously. 

“Then why are you adopting a kid?” She asked, bluntly. Stiles was starting to think everything she did was blunt. Her questions, her unashamed stare, her fingernails that tapped on her crossed arms. 

“Um, Kimberly,” Marsha said. “You remember we had a discussion about common-law--”

“I wasn’t really listening,” she said, still maintaining steady eye contact with Derek. 

“That’s okay,” Stiles interrupted, plastering a smile on his face to cover his growing unease. “That stuff is boring anyway. What you really need to know is that he-- _we_ are adopting a kid because we want to make our family bigger. We have a lot of love to give.”

“You. And him?” Kimberly looked between Stiles and Derek for a long time, confusion slowly turning to annoyance. “That’s not gonna work for me.” 

Stiles’s stomach went cold, and he reached blindly for Derek’s hand. Marsha stepped closer to the guard rail on the hospital bed, her papers fluttering nervously in her grip. 

“Kimberly,” she said, her positive tone a few notches less perky. “We went over their profiles together. You read them, you were totally on board with this couple.”

Her lips twisted, and she lifted her arms in an exasperated and defensive gesture. “Well, excuse me for just having given birth. I was a little distracted, and people kept shoving forms in my face. I thought Meek-zee...”

“Mieczysław,” Stiles supplied, numbly.

“Yeah. I thought that was a girl’s name. I want my baby to grow up in a normal family.” 

Stiles flinched away like she’d delivered a physical slap. A normal family. How were he, Derek and Teddy not normal? Did they not love each other? And get on each other’s nerves and make each other laugh? They shared couches, and in-jokes, and a beautiful, but largely impractical car, and a home, but that wasn’t _normal_ enough for her? Somehow, with the absence of a few chromosomes, she deemed them unfit to love her baby who had a few extra. 

The woman in the corner started to cry, softly, but loud enough that Kimberly looked skyward and said, tersely, “Mom, don’t start.” 

“I’m not starting anything,” Kimberly’s mother replied, tearfully. “It’s your decision.”

“Yes. It is. And I’m deciding to give him up. Nothing you can say will change that.” She turned her fiery gaze to Marsha, pointedly skipping over Stiles and Derek. “And I’m also deciding that I want a different couple. Find someone else.” 

“Oh, Kim, I don’t--” 

“It’s Kimberly,” she snapped, then she crossed her arms over her chest again, and looked down into her lap. “I’d like you to leave now.” 

Stiles wasn’t about to argue over whether she meant Marsha or everyone. He turned around, bumping into Derek in his haste, then dragging him out of the stifling air of the hospital room. 

The halls weren’t familiar like the ones at Beacon Hills General, and Stiles had to pay attention to the signs and arrows pointing toward the exit. He was thankful for it, because it gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the disappointment and growing sense of loss.   
Stiles didn’t look back at Derek as he bulldozed them through the crowded halls. It wasn’t that he was afraid that Derek would disappear if he looked back before the shadow of the hospital was off his face, he just wasn’t sure if he could keep walking if he turned to look at the stoic devastation he knew he’d see in Derek’s eyes. 

“Mr. Stilinski! Mr. Hale!” He heard as they finally reached the cool, cigarette tainted air of the parking lot. It was Marsha, tottering as fast as she could on her high heels. It was tempting to leave her in the dust, but Stiles knew he needed as much closure as he could get. 

“Yes?” Derek said, beside him, his fast a stony mask. Stiles could tell Derek wasn’t expecting Kimberly to have changed her mind any more than he was.

“I just--I’m so sorry,” She said, her voice shaking. She looked so different now from the woman with immaculate hair and a sunny, genuine smile. “I thought she was with me the whole time, she never gave any indication on any of the forms…” She trailed off, looking helplessly at them and shaking her head. “I can try to bring her around. I’ll do my best.” 

“I’m sure you will,” Derek said, flatly. 

She let them go with a promise to follow up with a phone call--one Stiles was dreading--and they finished the remainder of the long walk to the car. Stiles stalled with his hand on the door. When he opened it, got inside and they drove away, the dream of taking Kimberly’s little boy home with them would die. Intellectually, Stiles knew it had ended the moment Kimberly realized that there wasn’t a wife in their nuclear family, but it was hard to let go of the hope that Marsha would come clicking back, shouting that Kimberly had a change of heart, and they’d all embrace in slow motion. 

Instead, his fingers froze on the metal handle like a tongue to a flagpole in the dead of winter, and white hot anger bubbled through the numbness to the surface. 

“What an idiot,” he seethed, and Derek looked up from the keys in his hands. “Seriously. Who decides it’s a good idea to skim the profile of the family your child is going to live with?”

“Stiles, let it go,” Derek said, gently.

Stiles stared, incredulous. “Let it go? How can I do that? It’s such a stupid reason not to let someone adopt your kid. Obviously, we were fine on paper. We were perfect. But because of her bigoted ass, and my stupid, _stupid_ name--” His voice broke, and he slammed his palm hard on the roof of the Camaro. “My goddamn name. If it weren’t for that fucked up word vomit, maybe we wouldn’t have…”

The grief finally overtook the anger that had tried to contain it, and he curled into himself as much as he could while standing in the busy, overpriced parking lot of a hospital miles from his home. He leaned into the car and let his head fall to his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he said to the shiny black paint. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

He didn’t hear Derek’s footsteps coming around the car, but he was vaguely aware of his hands pulling Stiles into his chest. Stiles was stuck like a broken record, saying ‘sorry’ over and over while the tears fell harder. 

This, too, was something he knew on a higher level wasn’t right. It wasn’t actually his fault, or anyone’s, perhaps not even Kimberly’s. Stiles just wanted to blame something. It didn’t matter if the thing he chose was his name, the one his mother had picked to honour her father. He needed to put the fault anywhere but on their love. Their perfect romance novel love story, spun out over years of pining, then cherishing, then sharing with Teddy. 

Stiles eventually cried himself out, and croaked his last apology into Derek’s shoulder. He took a few deep breaths that Derek helped to count him through, then they got in the car to make the journey home. All he wanted to do was crawl into their bed, click off the light, and mourn together for the baby who was never theirs to mourn, but who felt like he might have been. 

They’d start healing from the shallow, painful wound tomorrow. Pick Teddy up from Scott and Kira’s and hold him extra tightly. Rescind all the excited texts they’d sent. For now, they wouldn’t work toward the light. They’d let themselves wallow in the darkness for just a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(
> 
> Next Chapter Tomorrow (March 19): With a new, harsher perspective, Stiles and Derek come across an opportunity that could make or break their happiness.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles couldn’t believe how big Teddy was getting. At four and a half, he was closer to being a real person than he was to a pink, human shaped bean. (It didn’t seem to matter how much he wanted one, Stiles still found babies to be way more alien-like than any creature he’d encountered.) He spoke so much now, and was doing great in his own bed. Stiles still felt a pang of sadness that he didn’t want to sleep cuddled between them any more, but it was best for all of them. Also, he cautiously allowed himself to hope that maybe they’d have another baby to cuddle in not too long. 

Well, not a baby. But a two year old was close enough. 

They were still on the human adoption list. They still got periodic emails from the agency, but there was a whole lot of No and Better Luck Next Time coming their way. He knew he had no right to feel impatient, since adoption took as long as it took, but it stung more than he thought was fair that they’d been so close two times already. 

So when Deaton called and told them that a werewolf he was friendly with was looking for a new pack for a recently orphaned toddler, Stiles and Derek both reined in their jumping hearts. They kept their feet on the ground and didn’t let themselves believe that sending an email indicating their interest meant it was a sure thing. 

That didn’t mean that they couldn’t hope. 

The Colton pack lived across the border in Oregon, not quite as far as Portland, but far enough that it was quite a hike. It wasn’t an old pack, or a prestigious one. They weren’t family based like the Hale pack had been, and were named after the town, rather than the alpha’s surname. As far as Stiles could tell, the median age was somewhere around 75. Derek said he recalled something about it being viewed as a sort of a retirement spot for werewolves who weren’t tied down to their territory. 

Joanne, a beta who’d been living in Colton for the last 10 years, had been appointed the guardian of her 2 year old werewolf granddaughter when her son and his human wife had been killed in a car accident. There wasn’t any other family on either side who was in a position to take care of a young child, Joanne explained, and while she would love to be able to keep her, she herself wasn’t in good enough health to give her the attention she needed. 

It was a very unique opportunity. Werewolves, drawn as they were by biology into pack structures, didn’t let go of children easily. In most packs, even if there were to be an orphan, there would be any number of pack members there to take on the role of parent. Teddy had been a special case, and his isolation from a pack was what made them so sure that he’d been born to a human who hadn’t known what else to do. This little girl, with no parents and only one true pack member was their best chance.

They made the six hour drive the next weekend. The scenery was pretty nice, and the weather was great. Eddie was thrilled to be going on a road trip, and they ended up extending their journey by more than an hour because Stiles kept seeing great places to stop and let the dog roam for a bit. 

Stiles’ nervous energy built faster the closer they got. By the time Derek steered them into a parking space in front of a small, pretty house in Colton, he was nearly vibrating out of his seat. Before he could get out of the car and run to the front door, Derek put a hand on his shoulder. Stiles felt the warm pressure and listened to Derek’s unspoken message. He took a few deep breaths and tethered himself to reality. This could all come crumbling down around their ears at any moment. 

A couple of times, when they’d dared bring up the topic of their wish to grow their pack within a pack, they’d skirted the edge of a thought they didn’t want to speak aloud, but held with conviction. _One more time._ If this opportunity fell through, for one reason or another, it would be the last time they’d be able to stand the let down. Anything more would be too much of a strain. Already, he was tensing for a blow, even as he warmed to the thought of Teddy having a younger sister. 

Derek’s steadying hand served its purpose, and when he stepped out of the car, it was with a clear head, an open mind, and a guarded heart. 

**

The first meeting went better than they ever could have hoped. The little girl, Gillian, was shy and hid behind her grandmother’s chair for most of the visit, but she smiled and waved at them as they left. Meeting in person had allayed any fears Joanne had had about their character, but she wanted to make sure they would be able to bond with Gillian before giving her final permission. 

The problem with this was geography. Sure, they were willing to drive 6 hours occasionally, on a weekend when they had nothing else planned, but even with the pack’s willingness to babysit, it was a long time to leave Teddy at home. Joanne was no technophobe, however, and suggested that they skype with her and Gillian. 

Gillian was still shy, but she opened up a bit more every time she saw their faces on the screen. The visits were never very long, since she got bored very quickly, but she stayed long enough for them to ask her a few simple questions about herself. (She liked the colour green, her grandmother’s spaghetti and kittens. Stiles wasn’t sure how Eddie was going to feel about this development.) Once, they even read a story to her, which she seemed to like very much. It was after that interaction that Joanne suggested they come up for another visit in person. She didn’t say anything explicitly, but from her warm smile and her friendlier tone of voice, they thought she might be ready to make her decision. 

Teddy was very curious about what they did when they sequestered themselves in their room with the laptop, and Derek was sure he could hear at least some of the conversation. They’d talked to Teddy before about being a big brother, but they decided to keep Gillian to themselves until the very last minute. Ted was a friendly boy, and he got so attached to any new friends he made, so if this fell through, he’d be heartbroken. 

All the way up to Colton the next weekend, Stiles repeated and repeated that she wasn’t theirs yet. That it could still go wrong. In the moment, he wanted to believe that it worked, that he wouldn’t be devastated if it didn’t go as planned, but he knew it wasn’t true when his heart sank to the pit of his stomach at the sight of a shiny, new SUV parked in Joanne’s driveway.

_It doesn’t mean anything_ , he tried to tell himself. _Joanne has a visitor. No big deal._ But Derek’s stiffness in the driver’s seat set off alarm bells. Stiles clambered out of the car and headed for the door, then grew more and more worried as he heard the sounds of Gillian’s laughter from inside the house. 

Stiles felt more than saw Derek’s presence at his side as Joanne opened the door. She was smiling over her shoulder at the people in the living room, but it slowly faded when she faced them. The sadness in her eyes was the only confirmation he needed. She’d changed her mind. They’d been so close, but Gillian was no longer in their reach. 

“I’m sorry,” Joanne said, and she meant it. “This couple lives in Portland, just an hour away. It’s close enough for me to visit every week, instead of once in a while. I have to do what my son would have wanted, and he wanted me to be in Gillian’s life. You understand, yes?”

Stiles nodded, keeping it together through sheer force of will. It wasn’t Joanne’s fault, and he didn’t want her to feel bad. Not really. “They’re nice people?” He had to ask. 

“Yes. Gillian loves them already. They’ve really bonded.” _Better than you_ , she didn’t say, but that was all Stiles heard. 

_You never gave us the chance_ , he wanted to yell, but he only nodded again and turned away from her sympathetic eyes. He expected to run into Derek, but instead, he saw his retreating back. Stiles followed him to the car, and got back into the passenger seat on legs he didn’t trust to hold him up. The leather of the car seat hadn’t even cooled off.

The moment his seatbelt was done up, Stiles curled into himself against the door, blocking out the passing scenery of Oregon. He knew it wasn’t fair, leaving Derek to drive in silence when he probably wasn’t much better than Stiles himself, but putting his arms over his head was just about the only thing he could think of doing at the moment. His eyes were dry. He’d already cried his fill for Kimberly’s son and the baby that never was. Instead, he shook, and turned his knuckles white on the fabric of his shirt cuffs. 

They didn’t stop the whole way back. When they crossed the border into California, Stiles finally lifted his head and screwed up the courage to take the wheel, but Derek declined, even though he’d essentially been driving for nine hours straight. Though, _declined_ was a strong word for what he actually did. Derek didn’t say anything, didn’t cry, or give any visible sign of what he was feeling. 

Stiles leaned against Derek’s shoulder for the rest of the way, hoping that the small point of contact would shore up both their strengths. He was sure the worst had yet to come. They were both in shock from the suddenness of the wound, but it would start to bleed soon enough. 

Instead of going straight home like Stiles thought he would, Derek stopped at Stiles’ father’s house, and brought Teddy out to the car, wrapped in a blanket and still fast asleep. From the buzzing of his phone in his pocket, Stiles thought Derek must have told the Sheriff what happened, or at least said enough that he could figure it out. Stiles decided to ignore it. There was only so many times he could tell his father he was fine and not to worry before the lie became obvious, even over text.

Minutes later, Derek poured a loose-limbed, sleepy Teddy into their bed, instead of the castle Derek had made with his own hands for their boy who loved to make up fantastical stories. They held him too tight in the dark with their own heartache quietly tearing them apart.

**

Derek had gotten a lot better at opening up, over the years. It didn’t come naturally to him, but he always felt better if he let someone--usually Stiles--share his burdens. His fears, his bad days, his good ones. 

After Gillian, Derek reverted to the island he’d been before pack and therapy--lots of therapy--had helped him realize he didn’t need to keep himself so closed off. Stiles let it happen for a week. He gave Derek seven days to keep his words and feelings to himself. It wasn’t like Derek was ignoring his family. He scent-marked Teddy more, even, and held Stiles closer at night. 

At breakfast on the eighth day, Stiles left Teddy to his yogurt and joined Derek on the porch. It was a nice morning, warm, but not humid yet. Eddie was running around the backyard, sniffing the trails where all the squirrels had been that morning, and completely missing the one that was on the fence behind him. Stiles sat down on the step next to Derek and nudged him with a shoulder. 

“Am I going to have to tattle on you to Dr. Archer?” Stiles teased.

Derek’s smile was there then gone in an instant, and Stiles knew when he was being humoured. He suddenly felt embarrassed for trying to joke Derek out of his depression. That was Stiles though, always putting his foot in his mouth, making light of situations that were dark as pitch. 

“I miss you,” Stiles said, honestly.

Derek frowned at him, quizzically. “I’m still here.”

‘Sort of.” Stiles shrugged. “Not really. Not the you I’m used to.”

Derek stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, and threaded his fingers through Stiles’, leaning their hands on his knee. 

“Will you talk to me?” Stiles asked. Derek didn’t answer for a long time, but contrary to what many people believed, what he himself believed for years, Stiles could be patient. 

“I can’t help but feel that...” Derek swallowed hard, his shining eyes following Eddie on the grass rather than meeting Stiles’. “Maybe this is somehow my fault. Maybe I’m cursed or something. Everything I touch turns to ash.” 

“No,” Stiles said it firmly enough that Eddie’s head snapped up and his ears twitched back. “That isn’t true. I love you. Teddy loves you. Hell, the dog thinks you hung the moon and it’s actually made of cheese. It’s as much my fault as it is yours.”

Derek squeezed his hand harder. “That isn’t--”

“I know. It’s no one’s fault. A lot of couples go through this kind of thing for the sake of their families. We’ve just had really bad luck.” 

That was what made it so hard to bear, for Derek especially. Derek was an expert in blaming himself. If there was even one tiny facet of a disastrous situation that could be chalked up as a failure on Derek’s part, he would take the guilt for the whole thing on his shoulders. This time, there was nothing for Derek to blame on himself. 

Stiles used his free hand to cover their clasped ones. “We’re still waiting on the adoption agency. And there’s always the chance that another pack will need someone to take in a child.” 

Not much of one, Stiles knew. The likelihood of a pack letting go of a pup was so small it was almost negligible.

Derek extracted his fingers from Stiles’ grip and shoved them through his hair, hanging his head low. Stiles could tell that Derek was working up to saying something important, so he didn’t push, he simply waited for him to find the words. Eventually, he did.

“It feels selfish, but...It hurts so much, every time we come so close. I love Teddy. I love our life. Maybe the next time it would work. But maybe it wouldn’t, and it would hurt just as much.” Derek blew out a harsh breath and dug his fingers into his thighs, thankfully with blunt human nails. “I want another child. But I can’t keep feeling like I did when I lost my family, over and over again. I can’t take it another time.” 

Stiles couldn’t hold back anymore and threw his arms around Derek’s tensely drawn shoulders. They hugged long enough that Eddie got tired of being ignored and came over to poke at their arms with his wet nose. They broke apart and chuckled a bit at his antics. He really pulled his weight in times like these, by making them laugh when they’d hit rock bottom.

“I agree,” Stiles said while he scratched Ed’s ear. Derek finally looked over at him, relief stark in his expression. “You and Teddy and this big lug are all I need to be happy.” 

Derek reached his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and pulled him into his side, so Stiles’ head rested on his shoulder. They’d go back inside in a minute, to make sure Teddy didn’t end up wearing his Fruit on the Bottom, but they took a minute to tell themselves how lucky they were. Really. 

Stiles thought back to the doubts and fears he’d had before they started this failed quest, the ones he’d thought he’d conquered. Maybe it was better this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it will get better. 
> 
> One more long chapter, then an epilogue, both on March 21st.


	5. Chapter 5

True to pattern, Derek and Stiles were a mess when Teddy started kindergarten, and Teddy blithely waved them off, skipping into the classroom without a backward glance. Derek and Stiles didn’t get a single thing done that whole first day, they were too busy sweating over what could go wrong. Teddy could find it difficult to make friends. (Unlikely.) He could get overwhelmed and wolf out. (Very unlikely.) He could miss them so much that he cried the whole afternoon. (Extremely unlikely. If anyone was going to cry, it would be Stiles and Derek. Or so they thought.)

They arrived at the school at the end of the day (almost a full hour early, no big deal) and stood with the other parents and caregivers waiting for all the kids to get their stuff together. Teddy, of course, was one of the last kids out the door, since he insisted on helping other children get their outdoor shoes and coats and backpacks and hats on. 

When he finally noticed them, his face lit up and he ran over, already bursting with stories from his first day. Ms. Lewis taught them songs and they had orange slices for a special snack. They read a story, and Ms. Lewis did the voices, and Teddy put up his hand and told the class his favourite book. There was colouring and the letter A and everything was really, totally awesome. 

Which was why Stiles and Derek were alarmed when Teddy’s eyes welled up when they started to lead him to the car. Derek knelt down immediately, gave him a hug and asked what was wrong. 

“I had so much fun, Daddy,” Teddy said, then he sniffed wetly. “I made friends. I don’t want it to be over.”

Derek looked up at Stiles, his eyebrows climbing with surprise and amusement. Stiles bit his lip to keep from laughing. 

“Teddy,” Derek said, wiping the single tear off Teddy’s cheek. (Stiles was pretty stoked that his kid was the single tear type. He was going to give Scott a run for his money with his puppy dog eyes.) “This isn’t a one day thing, baby. You have to go to kindergarten every weekday.”

Teddy’s lip stopped trembling, but his eyes still shimmered. “I get to come back?”

“Yes, of course.” 

Teddy’s face lit up, then he whipped around to wave at another kid, who was already in the parking lot. “See you tomorrow!” He yelled, ecstatically, and the kid screamed something back. 

This kindergarten thing was definitely working out.

**

Stiles was going crazy. 

Teddy went to school through the week, Derek went to his workshop to start all the projects he’d put off while he was on a self-imposed paternity cut-back, and Stiles was left alone to occupy his time. Most of his research for the bicentennial month was finished and submitted. There was only so much cleaning he could do in a day, and in the first month alone, he’d emptied the eavestroughs, scrubbed the ceiling and organized every closet they had. (Barring the one down in Derek’s shop, which he’d been threatened into leaving alone.) The house had never been so clean, and Stiles was bored out of his mind. 

All his friends were busy with their own lives. He didn’t really want to start a new hobby or join a club, since he’d have no time for it once he started back at his job after Christmas. Starting a short project could work for him, but he might end up in the same position he would if he signed up for some team: He might get way more involved than he planned and spend the next three years feverishly working on it in between spending time working and with Teddy and Derek. (It had happened before. Their bestiary was perfect, though, so it wasn’t like he regretted it.) 

He read a lot these days. Caught up on some TV shows he’d missed. (Netflix was a demon, and the continuous play feature was not his friend.) But Stiles was not cut out for a life of leisure. He craved being rushed off his feet, having a full plate and a packed schedule. Contrary to popular belief, ADHD didn’t always get better with age, and he still took Adderall and jogged to get rid of his excess energy. Sitting on the couch all afternoon tended to undo those preventative measures. 

He found himself hyper-focusing, forgetting to eat lunch or shower some days until it was nearly 3PM and he had to rush to get out the door to get Teddy. It was never very bad, he never forgot to pick up his son or take the dog out. But he’d spend hours sitting in one place obsessing over things. 

Once, he read everything there was to read about Eddie’s grain allergy and the best foods available. Another time, he taught himself to knit and made an ugly, lumpy scarf for Derek before deciding it wasn’t a skill he should pursue. 

More than a few times, he caught himself daydreaming about how he might have filled his time if there was a child in his household who didn’t go to kindergarten. That wasn’t a great rabbit hole to fall into. It was too easy to sink into the plush couch cushions and let his palms feel empty, when, in another life, they could have been filled by Teddy’s hand on his left side, and a smaller, more breakable one on the other.

**

Two and a half months into his boredom coma, the Sheriff had to reset the Supernatural Accident Free Days counter back to zero. 

Some large livestock went missing in the rural areas around Beacon Hills. The Sheriff informed the pack, just in case, but there were no other signs of supernatural activity, so they dismissed it. Mostly. If they were a little bit more on their guard than normal, then that wouldn’t be a bad thing, right? 

A week later, three black Hummers with tinted windows rolled into town and parked outside of Chris Argent’s home, setting the gossip mill of Beacon Hills churning.

By the time they left, headed for the nearest motel, the Pack had found out that hunters were in town, and they weren’t just passing through. Chris had been informed that they weren’t after any werewolves, so he’d be wise to just stay out of their way. 

Scott considered doing just that. For about half a second. 

Chris didn’t trust them. He’d heard of the group, and they weren’t known for their mercy or their discernment when it came to their targets. They followed no code, and scorned those who did. Their visit to the Argent home was more of a slap in the face than a friendly warning. 

Whatever--or whoever--the hunters were after, it was something that knew how to hide extremely well. Other than the missing cows, it had left no trace that the pack could find, and it was nearly impossible to even figure out what they were looking for when all they knew about it was that it ate large amounts of red meat.

It was tragic, they acknowledged later, that the creature had been quite so proficient at hiding themselves. Maybe, if they’d let something slip, the pack could have found her before the hunters did. 

Derek smelled the fire first. He sat straight up in his chair at Sonya’s table and pushed his dinner plate away. He turned pale, and swallowed a few times in quick succession. 

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked as Derek rose from his chair and grabbed his jacket from the rack next to the door. 

“Something’s happening,” he whispered. “I can’t say for sure, but I think the hunters might have found their target.” 

“We’ll call Scott on the way.” 

Stiles put on his own coat and asked their concerned friend if she could watch Teddy until they got back, then kissed his son on the forehead. In the corner of his eye, he could see Derek trying to keep himself from asking Stiles to stay behind. He knew better. But when they were on their way, Stiles made the decision on his own to stick to the sidelines, and only help if it was absolutely necessary. This time, they had more to lose. He wouldn’t leave his baby an orphan, so one of them had to survive. They headed for the preserve, since that was where things always seemed to go down, and Scott texted he’d meet them there with everyone else following shortly behind. 

The scent of smoke was easy to follow, as was the growing glow of a fire not yet raging, but close. They drove as far as they could, then Derek continued on foot with Scott and Isaac, while Stiles circled around the edge of the confrontation with Lydia and Parrish. Through the thick trees, they could hear Scott attempting to diffuse the situation, to find out more and make sure that any justice served that night would be on those who deserved it. Their sightlines weren’t great, but from what they could tell, the hunters had a lone woman surrounded. She clearly wasn’t human, but neither he nor Lydia knew off hand what kind of creature had glowing golden skin, tilted electric green eyes, and could shoot small spurts of flame from their mouths. 

She was injured, Stiles thought. Her posture was stooped, and she stumbled more than once trying to keep as many hunters as she could in her vision. Even from so many feet away, he could see her shoulders heaving from panicked breaths. 

Scott tried his best. Maybe, if tensions hadn’t been so high to begin with, he could have convinced the hunters to stand down, if only long enough for her to get away. Instead, a trigger-happy rookie saw a shot and took it, and the woman shrieked in pain and anger. Scott only had time to shout, “ _Get back_ ,” before she was transforming, and lashing out with claws and flames. 

The dragon was beautiful. The small fires that smoldered around the clearing glinted off her gilded scales, like an orange sunset on clear water. Her long neck curved as she screamed out her rage and agony, and Stiles had never heard a sound so furious, yet so heavy with cold sorrow. It scraped on his nerves and tightened his throat with thick misery. Before it had echoed away, he felt himself pushing away from the car, running through the trees while Lydia and Parrish yelled at him to stop. 

She fought fiercely. She was able to take most of the hunters out, but not before the shower of bullets from their assault rifles pierced her tough hide, targeting the place on her belly where her scales were rippled and warped. She fell with a crash that reverberated through the entire forest. 

Stiles pushed past Scott and Derek’s staying arms, drawn by something he couldn’t put his finger on. She was power and majesty in corporeal form, even brought so low as she was. Stiles went to his knees by her gigantic head, and shifted it it carefully into his lap. He stroked her crown of ridges and spikes and spoke softly to her while she took her last breaths and the glow of life beneath her skin faded. 

He stayed with her long after she was gone, grieving for a dragon who he’d never even known, but who fought for her life so valiantly, he felt someone should. Around him, the pack did damage control, putting out the fires before emergency services could swoop in. He wasn’t sure how many minutes he sat there, wiping away the tears that fell on her scales, but it must have been a long time, because when he next heard Derek say his name and he looked up, the grass was no longer smoldering and his father was there to try and make up a plausible reason for a dozen men in combat gear to have turned up dead in a small town in Cali.

“She needs to be buried,” Derek said, quietly. 

Stiles nodded and accepted Derek and Scott’s help in setting her chin carefully on the ground and standing up. He stumbled away, nearly running into Deaton, who’d graced them with his presence to help the pack find a resting place for her. Stiles walked in the direction of the car, but the farther he went, the harder the pit of his stomach pulled in the direction he’d come from. He stopped, feeling the taut line with something more than touch. He’d thought it was tugging him back to her, but when he listened to it, and allowed his feet to go where it led, he found himself skirting the clearing and heading deeper into the trees. 

He didn’t know if it was some sort of message she passed to him in her death throes, or a manifestation of the whisper of magic he possessed, or maybe just an instinct he always worried he lacked. It might have been a combination of any of those things, but regardless, he listened. 

He walked until he came to a deep ravine made of craggy sheets of rock. He lowered himself down to the bottom using handholds that seemed unnaturally easy to grasp, then felt along the walls with only his phone for light. After a long, careful walk, the cold stone under his hand started to get warmer, then it fell away to form a tall, narrow opening. If he’d been looking for it with his eyes, he probably wouldn’t have found it, since the rock was all one colour and the chink was so small.

He squeezed inside and was immediately hit by a wave of stifling heat that made his eyes water and his lungs complain. The hottest sauna he’d ever been in couldn’t compare to the dry, inescapable warmth of the cave, but he pushed through the thick air. His phone illuminated his feet and the piles of things from her hoard he had to pass through to get farther in. Soft blankets. Packs of moist towelettes. A stack of cow bones.

A gigantic box of diapers, sized for newborns. 

He took another step and something crunched under his foot. He picked up his shoe to look, and saw the cracked and sticky remains of an eggshell, then spent a knife-edged second thinking he was too late, that the hunters had found the clutch first, but he had to make sure, so he followed the messy path of pearlescent shell shards. They led him to the centre of the heat, where a natural dip in the cave floor had been filled with red hot coals, then covered with a wide, flat rock. 

Resting on top, like an offering on an altar, were two tiny bodies, nestled together with arms tangled. As Stiles watched, his heart in his throat, one kicked its feet, and the other let out a discontented mewl. He collapsed to his knees in the pile of shells around the rock, he was so relieved. He balanced his phone against another pile of diapers and carefully picked up the twin who was crying. He hated separating their tiny clutching hands, but he needed to check if they were healthy. 

They were both girls, and they couldn’t have been born--or hatched, he supposed--more than a handful of hours ago. The twin in his arms opened her wrinkled eyes and they glowed a murky jade that would probably brighten to something like her mother’s, if newborn dragons eyes were like humans. Her skin was so hot that it hurt Stiles’ hands and the crook of his elbow where he laid her, but it cooled the longer he held her. Under their skin, a crooked pattern like shattered glass pulsed with a spectrum of colour Stiles couldn’t begin to describe. The beginnings of scales, probably. 

They didn’t resemble humans very much, despite the presence of the right number of limbs and facial features. Every aspect was just a little shifted, or tinted enough to make it obvious that they were ‘other.’ However, the more her skin made contact with his, the more the shape of her face rounded and pinked, and her natural glamour changed her to look a bit more like him. Him, in the most general sense, in that he was human. She’d always take after her mother, he was sure. Those tilted eyes were unmistakable. 

He nudged her rosebud mouth, closed now that her crying had stopped, and she revealed the tips of four razor sharp teeth. When he lifted her gums carefully to check for more, the ones he’d already found suddenly lengthened, and one of them nicked his finger tip. He hissed from the sharp pain, but it was soothed almost instantly by her mouth latching around it and sucking for all she was worth. 

While she fed, pulling no more than a tablespoon of blood out of the shallow wound, Stiles tried to figure out how to pick up her sister without dropping either of them, and didn’t hear Derek enter the cave until he called out, “Stiles?” And shone the police grade flashlight in Stiles’ direction. 

“Derek, I need your hands.”

Stiles shuffled sideways on his knees to give Derek some room, moving carefully and slowly so he didn’t jostle the baby in his arms, whose eyes had fallen shut. Derek came closer, avoiding the eggshells like Stiles had. His eyes widened and flashed blue when he spotted the child Stiles had, then nearly bugged out when he saw the second baby, who was awake now and making soft hiccuping sobs. He didn’t hesitate any longer, once he realized what Stiles needed him for. He propped up his flashlight, then lifted the second baby, cradling her tiny head and neck in his large hands, and holding her against his chest. 

Stiles shifted again, turning so that they could hold the sisters beside each other and watch as they reached out blindly and clasped their hands together like otters. Or like dragons, apparently. 

“She was pregnant,” Derek breathed, when they settled and fell asleep with identical sighs. 

Stiles nodded, his throat clogging up again with tears. “That’s why she was hiding.” 

“Stiles, this…” He trailed off, brushing his thumb over a pair of perfect, tiny feet. “Their family--” 

“None,” Stiles interrupted. He cast his mind back to the entry in the bestiary he’d written with Lydia. “Dragons are solitary. I don’t know which kind she was, yet, but their mating habits are pretty consistent over the whole species. No male dragon in the picture, at all. They have one clutch of eggs in their lifetime, no more. They’re very territorial, and can’t handle another dragon’s offspring in their nest. Dragon kids who are orphaned are left to die. It’s ingrained.” 

Even in the low light of the cave, Stiles could read the shine in Derek’s eyes and the pursed line of his lips. He was already falling for these two, and Stiles was halfway in the hole. 

“Derek,” Stiles said, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “This could be it for us.”

Derek exhaled sharply and closed his eyes. “Do we have the right to keep them?” He said, haltingly, like it hurt him to say the words out loud, when he wanted nothing but to keep them inside where he didn’t even have to think them. 

“Who would have more right than us? She came to Beacon Hills and we tried to keep her safe. We did our best, and if those fucking bloodthirsty hunters hadn’t taken her down, she might have raised them here. We know what they’ll need, more than almost any other couple. Teddy will help them grow into themselves, and the pack will keep them safe from anyone who might wish them harm because of what they are.” He looked down at the babies’ hands, clenched so tightly in each other, with fingernails longer than any newborn’s should be.” We’ll love them, Derek. For themselves, not just the parts that look human. We have every right.”

The twin Derek held stretched and fussed a bit at Stiles’ desperate tone, then opened her eyes. Where her sister’s were green like their mother, hers were ruby red. Stiles and Derek looked at them, surprised, for a long time, then looked at each other. 

“Is that…” Derek said, cautiously. “Do dragons have alphas?”

Stiles shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. Probably not.” 

“It’s just a coincidence, then.” 

“Or fate.” 

“You don’t believe in fate.” 

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know, Derek. I didn’t. But then we rescued a little werewolf boy from a shelter when he could easily have been lost to his wolf forever. Then, we failed to save a mother dragon, but we found her children, just when we’d given up on having more kids. It’s kind of hard not to think fate had a hand in it.” 

Derek let out a little laugh that was more air than voice, and turned his gaze back to the twins. They both had their eyes closed now, and as Stiles and Derek watched, they yawned in perfect unison and snuggled deeper into their arms. 

“They must be tired.” 

Stiles nodded, entranced by the flex of their hands, gripping tighter, even in sleep. “Being born is a pretty strenuous activity.” 

“Let’s take them home, then. Teddy will want to meet them.”


	6. Epilogue

“Boys, come on, it’s gonna start soon!” 

Stiles shut the door to the porch using a finger and the back of his hand, since both of his arms were full of baby girl. He didn’t need to lock it, since Derek and Teddy would come through it in a couple of minutes when their game was finished. Stiles wasn’t sure what the game was, but it seemed complicated, involving a heroic robot (Teddy), an evil sorcerer (Eddie) and a kidnappee. (Derek. Their household did not subscribe to the notion of “damsels in distress.”) 

He lingered at the door a little while longer, watching them romp around the backyard in the light of the solar lamps. He was honestly surprised Teddy was still conscious. It was way past their bedtime. The girls were pretty adaptable, and tended to wake up halfway through the night anyway, but Teddy was a boy who appreciated a schedule. 

Stiles bopped back to the living room, bouncing up and down a little with each step. The twins loved it, and would kick up a fuss if he stopped. He didn’t mind, usually. Except when he found himself doing it while in line at the drugstore, when they were at home. 

“Let’s look at the tree while we wait, shall we, ladies?” 

They hadn’t had the heart to take down the christmas tree yet. It was a little bedraggled from having been up for almost a month, but it still looked great in Stiles’ opinion. They went all out this year, with tinsel and candy canes and a million ornaments. Not popcorn strings, though, since that didn’t seem fair to Eddie. And no lights, since two baby dragons were enough of a fire hazard. 

The girls loved it regardless. Their eyes widened as he put their faces next to the tickly tinsel and sparkly baubles. Stiles made a special stop by the ornaments that had their names printed on them in the Greek alphabet. Stiles hoped they’d be a little reminder of where they came from every year when the holiday stuff was brought out.

In the chaotic weeks after she’d died, Lydia and Stiles had done some research into the type of dragon their mother had been. It was pretty clear to them that she was an earth drakaina from Greece, and her kind could still be found in very small numbers in and around Mount Parnassus. Stiles didn’t know much about their history, since the facts were all tied up in myth, but he wanted to do his best to honour their heritage. He’d bought the ornaments on a whim, along with a big book of illustrated Greek mythology.

Their names, too, were chosen with the intent to remind them of their mother. Chariot had eyes as red as the flames on Apollo’s horses, and Cypress had green eyes, like the tree that originated there, according to myth. 

The whole tree trembled as Derek, Teddy and Eddie came rushing in, and the girls kicked their feet in excitement. Derek swooped in and plucked Chariot from Stiles’ arms, bringing her soft forehead to his nose for a long sniff. Derek was of the opinion that nothing smelled better than a baby’s clean skin, regardless of species. Stiles had to agree. 

“Did we make it?” Derek asked, when he’d scented his fill. 

“Yep, they’re still gearing up to it.” 

On their TV screen, Ryan Seacrest was talking into a microphone about what a year it had been, and who was up next on the main stage at New Year’s Rockin’ Eve.

It wasn’t actually midnight. Stiles had done some digging and found a copy of last year’s livestream on Youtube, then set every visible clock a couple of hours ahead. Teddy would never know the difference, and they’d all be in bed by 10PM. 

“Daddy, it’s starting!” Teddy squealed from the couch. “You gotta make sure Charry and Cy see. It’s their first one!”

Stiles had always liked the tradition his family and friends followed at this time of year. The big pack party was on Christmas, and New Year’s Eve was spent in their own houses, doing exactly what they hoped to be doing for the year to come. Stiles kissed Cypress’ cheek and sat down on the couch next to the rest of his family. It was a tight fit, since Ed insisted on taking up a whole one and a half cushions. 

As the seconds ticked down on the year--figuratively--and Stiles pictured what the next one might look like, he thought that this, spending a day at home with Derek and the kids, being grateful for their life, was what he wanted to spend his time doing. All the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it! Hopefully no one drowned in tears. :P It all worked out in the end!
> 
> This will more than likely be the last long fic in this series, but I'm working on some time stamps, so if you have some slice of life that you'd like to see in this verse, leave a comment! I can't promise I'll use it, but it will give me inspiration!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos...it means the world to me, and keeps me writing. Thanks also to my beta, SylvieW.


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